


Binding and scarring

by darus_rovia



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Body Dysphoria, M/M, Mastectomy, Post Op, Trans Daryl Dixon, Trans Male Character, ftm character, post surgery, top surgery, trans!daryl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 16:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18369779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darus_rovia/pseuds/darus_rovia
Summary: Daryl Dixon gets his top surgery done.





	Binding and scarring

**Author's Note:**

> so i've spent way too much time on talking about mastectomy with different transmen and trans!daryl is one of my headcanons so here you have.

Paul’s leg was shaking rapidly as he bit down on his nails. He sat in the hospital’s waiting hall, waiting for the surgeon. Hopefully with good news. He looked at the watch in his wrist, sighing as it passed 2 PM. It had been a few hours already, Daryl’s surgery should be over by now.

What if something bad had happened?

Right before Paul could over react too much, the surgeon appeared.

The nervous man stood up, asking “is he okay?”

“Most certainly” the surgeon replied, “everything went well. We only had one little problem”

“Something serious?” Paul’s heart dropped to his stomach.

“No, these things happen sometimes. He bled more than most patients, but we got it under control. It has no affect how the end results will look, expect during his recovery process he is going to, most likely, be bruised more than usual. It isn’t dangerous” he explained.

Paul nodded, feeling his heart calm down a little.

“Wanna see him?” dr. Campell smirked.

They walked toward Daryl’s recovery room. Daryl was laying under two fat blankets with a breathing mask on.

Dr. Campell had a small flashlight with him and pointed into the medicated man’s eyes.

“Stawph” Daryl muttered, trying to dodge the bright light.

Dr. Campell chuckled, “Yeah, you’re okay. Still cold?”

Daryl nodded slightly.

The surgeon took off the breathing mask. “I’ll be back in an hour. If you’re still cold, I’ll get a heating blanket for you”

“Fer… Twat” Daryl tried to speak, his eyes falling shut.

Dr. Campell turned to Paul. “It’s very common for him to speak silly or nonsense. Don’t be afraid if he has some amnesia, it will all be back later. He’s under some heavy medication. He’ll be back to himself in couple hours”

“What about him being cold?” Paul asked.

“Don’t worry. It’s very common, even after small surgeries. He’ll be fine” he smiled and left the room, closing the door.

Paul took a chair and sat close to Daryl. “Hey Daryl. You alright?”

The man opened his eyes. “…Jesus?”

Paul chuckled. “That’s me”

“Bwut…. Imma a… Atheist” Daryl spoke slowly.

It took everything for Paul not to laugh out loud. He moved Daryl’s hair away from his eyes.

“I love you” Paul said right before Daryl fell back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Daryl sat in a wheelchair, a nurse pushing him towards the exit.

“When I broke my leg I got no wheelchair. Have my titties taken out, ‘ _oh take this_ ’” Daryl said.

The nurse and Paul both laughed a bit.

They had gotten lot of instructions. What to do, what not to do. Paul had written everything down in his journal, because Daryl had insisted he didn’t need a paper version of them.

They got outside, they helped Daryl into Paul’s car and the nurse left.

“There goes my wheels” Daryl pouted.

The nurse smiled brightly. “Have a safe trip home, mr. Dixon! Remember to drink lots of water and sleep” she said before walking inside.

Paul placed a pillow in front of Daryl’s chest before fastening the seatbelt.

Their 20 minute trip home lasted today 40 minutes.

 

* * *

 

“Paul!” Daryl shouted from the kitchen.

The younger man hurried to see what was going on. “Are you hurt?”

Daryl rolled his eyes, “No” he sighed, “I dropped my _fork_ ”

  
Daryl wouldn’t be able to bend down, raise his arms or shower for the next 10 days. He had multiple layers of gauzes and bandages around his chest and all he could wear was sweatpants and shirts with buttons.

  
One night, they laid in bed at 2 AM. Daryl was in pain, even after the pain killers, and couldn’t sleep. The only position he was allowed to sleep was on his back, which he hated. Paul couldn’t sleep either.

“Ye think it’ll be bad?” Daryl asked quietly.

“What?”

“The bruising”

“It’s not dangerous and it’s only for a moment” Paul said.

“I kno’… It’s just- I hate bruises” Daryl’s voice got even quieter, “brings back memories”

Paul scooted closer, placing his hand over his husband’s tummy. “Try to get some sleep”

 

* * *

 

“Can we not?” Daryl whined.

“Honey, you haven’t showered in 8 days” Paul breathed through his nose, “with all my love, you smell like shit”

“Fine” he gave in.

Paul had a warm, wet washcloth and he cleaned Daryl’s neck, armpits, legs, rest of his body. Daryl felt slightly humiliated. He hated that he wasn’t able to do it by himself. But after a while, he learned to relax.

His husband was doing this out of love.

When Daryl got dressed up again, the doorbell rang.

“If it’s Rick tell him to go away!” Daryl shouted as he saw Paul on the way to open it.

Later, Paul and Carol stepped into the living room.

“The hell did I jus’ say?” Daryl asked, from his pillow castle.

“To tell Rick to go away. _Rick wasn’t there_ ” Paul said.

Daryl rolled his eyes.

“Hey Pookie, I know you didn’t wanna see anyone during your recovery but… I made this casserole for you two. We’re all glad your surgery went well” Carol smiled, handing the food to Paul.

A small smile appeared on Daryl’s face. “Thanks”

“Is everything going well?” she asked.

“Paul ain’t letting me do shit” Daryl complained.

“Soon you will be doing cartwheels outside. Without a shirt” Carol smirked.

They all chuckled.

 

* * *

 

They were back in dr. Campell’s office.

It was his reveal day. Daryl could finally see how his chest looked. Campell and a nurse were untying the bandages. Then there were cotton pads with tape. Then there were the two, long scars. They had some tape on them, though.

His nipples were covered in small sponges but once they took them out, Campell asked “Are you ready to see your chest?”

Daryl nodded, stood up and walked over to the large mirror.

He was finally flat.

After 22 years of waiting. After 18 years of wearing uncomfortable, tight binders. Now he finally had a flat chest. A masculine chest. Round nipples, on even height.

Daryl felt overwhelmed, tears in his eyes. Paul was ready to cry any second.

Dr. Campell walked next to Daryl. “These wrinkles will fade away. There’s some swelling but it will be gone. Your nipple scabs will fall on their own, so don’t pick on them. These tapes over your scars should fall off on their own, but if they are there after 2 weeks, just carefully rip them off”

All Daryl could do was nod along. It felt unreal. But what brought him down from his awe was the bruising.

“About the bruising. It’s really important for you to not bump into something or someone. But after all, it is bruising and will go away in time” Campell said.

It looked…. Rough. Really rough. Daryl thought it looked disgusting. There were yellowy bruises, but the worst ones were the dark purple ones. They went almost up to his collarbones. His armpits were mostly covered in yellow and pink bruses. He turned to look at his side which were were covered in dark, reddish bruises. Area around his nipples and the scars had dark spots all over.

“I’ll give you two a moment” Campell said, leaving with the nurse.

Daryl’s eyes felt watery.

Paul walked in between his husband and the mirror. "Hey, look at me" he whispered, placing his hands behind Daryl's neck.

"You look handsome" Paul continued, "so handsome. You finally got top surgery. What you have wanted for so many years. You can deal with bruises for few months"

A tear fell down from Daryl's eye. "Love ya, Paul"

 

* * *

 

Daryl was going to have to wear a safety binder around his chest for five more weeks. Good news were that he was allowed to shower and take it off for couple of hours every day. The binder itself was nothing like the ones Daryl used to wear. It felt scratchy but it wasn't.... tight, it was snug. It was there to protect his 8,000 dollar nipples.

It was his first real shower in almost two weeks. That was a long time even for Daryl. It felt incredibly good to feel the warm water slide down his back. He wasn't allowed to face the water yet, but he didn't care. Daryl turned his face back, letting the water run over his face, onto his chest. He washed his hair, and for the first time in his life, he didn't feel dysphoric for washing his chest.

It was late at night when he went to bed. Paul was already in there reading a book. They both smiled as Daryl climbed into bed.

"You gotta put the bandage on" Paul said, not lifting his eyes from the book.

"In'a minute" Daryl muttered. He laid on his back, hands on his both sides. But the hands quickly travelled onto his chest. He had lot of pain killers, so he didn't feel any pain from touching it.

"Stop touching your nipples and go to sleep" Paul said as he put the book in his nightstand.

"It's just.... weird. It's numb" Daryl said, circling his fingers around his nipples, "and it's just... unbelievable"

Paul turned on his side to look at his husband, "you look great"

 

* * *

 

The days passed by and one morning, the couple were woken up by their door bell. First thing Paul did was mutter 'not it', almost completely in his sleep.

"Fuck" Daryl grunted and sighed. He got up and by muscle memory went to the drawer and grabbed the worn out binder.

"Daryl" Paul spoke half asleep, "you don't need that"

Daryl smiled and threw the binder back in. He grabbed his flannel from the floor and put it on while making his way to the door.

It was Rick.

"M'still recovering" Daryl said.

"Come on I wanna see the expensive nips!" Rick pleaded, "I won't be long"

Daryl grunted under his breath and let his brother in. He unbuttoned most of his shirt, letting Rick have a good look.

"Damn that's lot of bruises" Rick frowned.

The grumpy man started buttoning up his shirt.

"I'm sorry! I'm just worried about you, man" Rick said with apologizing eyes.

"S'kay" Daryl shrugged.

"If you don't.... mind the bruises, it looks really good. Your nipples are great" Rick said smiling, proud of his brother.

"Well they better be nice, cost me 8 grand!"

"I'm happy for you, Daryl" Rick said, opening his arms for a hug.

Daryl bit his lower lip and nodded, accepting the hug which turned out to be warm, careful hug.

 

* * *

 

"Oh son of a bitch!" was heard from the bathroom, interrupting Paul's yoga session. His bare feet tapped against the floor as he walked to see what happened.

Daryl was leaning against the sink, hand holding his chest tightly, pain written all over his frowned up face. He had a needle in his other hand.

"Are you okay?" Paul asked.

"Do I fuckin' look okay?" Daryl spat.

"I can do it for you" the man said, stepping closer, taking the needle from his husband's hand.

Daryl didn't fight against it, it wasn't the first time Paul had done it. Sometimes Daryl's back was so stiff after hunting he couldn't reach his behind. He took a deep breathe and relaxed.

Paul jammed the needle into Daryl's right ass cheek, shooting the testosterone into his body. After he was done he put a small bandage on the spot.

The grumpy man muttered ' _Thanks_ ' and left the bathroom, a moment later Paul heard the back door open and close.

 

Paul followed him, seeing him having a smoke on the porch. He stepped out and sat next to him.

 

"You okay?" he asked.

Daryl grunted in response.

"Talk to me" Paul said.

Daryl was quiet for a moment, he dumped the cigarette butt in the ashtray and muttered, "I'm just.... Annoyed, I guess"

"Why?"

"Cause.... I gotta take th' needle f'r the rest of ma life, man. Just spent 8 fuckin' grand on a surgery I shouldn't.... Have gon' through" Daryl's voice a bit shaky.

 

Paul honestly didn't know what to say. Daryl didn't choose this life, it was forced on him. Paul could see his husband was angry. Angry with the world, himself. He stood up and walked inside. Paul sighed.

 

* * *

 

The bruises were temporary, just how the surgeon said. Eventually, it was all gone. The swelling faded away, showing the true results which Daryl could never have wished for. One day, he looked in the mirror and thought he looked okay. He didn't feel hate or disgust, he felt okay. Months passed by quickly. Daryl kept using the stupidly overpriced scar cream and the scars started blend in with his skin. Once his chest hair grew back in - _which had to be shaved off for surgery_ \- you barely could recognize the scars if you weren't looking for them.

 

Paul and Daryl sat in the dinner table with their family. The whole gang was there. They were celebrating Rick's birthday and when they all had started eating, Daryl received a call. He excused himself for a moment to answer it in peace. 

He talked for a couple minutes and came back to the table with a bright smile. Paul asked what was it about.

"Th' doc just signed me up f'r hysto" Daryl whispered.

 

Even a blind man could see Daryl was getting happier and happier every single day. He was learning to accept himself and to understand others weren't always dicks about it. Life can be okay, even if you didn't choose it.


End file.
